


don’t leave me hanging, (i’m right here)

by bitelikefire (theoleo)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Body Swap, Fluffy, Jealousy Kink, M/M, Misunderstandings, bucky and steve are idiots basically without sam and natasha, elves are a thing, like beyond fluffy, not a crack fic but kind of, steve rogers is a failboat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-02
Updated: 2015-02-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 04:12:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3276254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theoleo/pseuds/bitelikefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve was going to tell him. Honestly. He was. But then – elves. <i>Fucking elves.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	don’t leave me hanging, (i’m right here)

**Author's Note:**

> Who fucking knew I could write something less than 15k? I sure didn't!
> 
> Someday I will write something deserving of a M rating. But today is not that day. 
> 
> I realized how much I love body!swap fics and then realized how I haven't found any in this fandom. So I figured I should write something short, fluffy and stupid to fill that void and hopefully spread the thirst I have for it. If you're expecting a body!swap between Steve and Bucky, you will be sorely mistaken. 
> 
> Title taken from Maroon 5's Sugar. It makes me want to drive into the sunset.

Steve’s trying real hard not to broadcast how freaked he is.

But all he really wants to do right now is tackle the remote from Sam’s grip from across the couch and change the channel from the wrestling match back to the news.

“Don’t even think about it,” Sam says. He doesn’t bother to even look at him and only peels a strand from his twizzler.

He’s got no one to blame but himself really. The only reason why he has no clue what the hell is going on right now is because seeing the fire and all around general chaos, was enough to make him lose his mind. Jumpy and jittery when he’s supposed to be keeping his right leg elevated at all times. The bullet wound from the previous mission is a clean one but it’s taking longer than normal to heal. Bruce said it was because of what the bullet rounds were laced with that was behind the slowed healing process. Steve’s still pissed he let himself get shot by a group of amateurs in the first place.

He doesn’t care though. Still tempted to grab his shield and run if that’s what it takes because it’s _Bucky down there._

Steve cracks. It was inevitable. Sam was probably counting down for it to happen any minute. “It’s been almost an hour,” Steve says, pained.

Sam side eyes him. “Stark hasn’t been called yet. I’m sure they’ve got it handled.”

“But – “

“He’s more than capable – “

“I know, _but_ –“

_(“See. He has back up.” Sam said nearly 40 minutes ago. “So can you listen to me now and get off your damned leg?” Sam crowded in the moment Bucky finished checking his hand gun at the elevator. Combat gear on and fitted with over half a dozen weapons and those were only the visible ones._

_Natasha was already there waiting with a hand on her hip and aimed a knowing smile at him._

_Steve tried not to keep eye contact with her. “If anything happens – “_

_“We’ll call Stark and Banner.” Natasha finished and Bucky nodded severely in agreement. Natasha turned on her heel and placed a hand on Bucky’s shoulder to guide him after her but only got him to move one step before he turned back around. His face lined with mock cheerfulness Steve saw through in an instant._

_“Relax Steve. It’s only elves.”_

_He said it like he was about to pull weeds out from an elderly neighbours lawn. Not like he's about to fight “only elves” that are not unlike the ones that nearly destroyed London two years ago. With one last push, he let Natasha shove him out into the elevator._

_“So I guess you haven’t told him yet,” Sam said the moment the quinjet took off and cracked open the lid of a beer. Steve’s only answer was a sigh and took the offered drink._

_“Thanks.”)_

“Okay, I’ll cut you a deal. I’ll turn it back to the news if you promise you’ll let us handle it. Barnes will kill me, and I mean that literally okay, if something happens to – “

Sam’s tablet pings a notification and he looks down at it with a flash of worry that makes Steve’s heart lodge itself into his throat. It only lasts a moment before Sam sags with relief and picks it up, typing out a response.

“What did I tell ya bud?” He turns the screen to face Steve and it’s a direct message from Bucky:

**mission complete, both safe.**

Steve doesn’t think it’s possible to die of pure, exhaustive happiness but right now, his body thinks it can try.

“Now will you fucking put your leg back onto the very cushiony rest I made for you?”

* * *

Bucky and Natasha look like shit.

They’re both bleeding from somewhere, outfits covered in soot. But Natasha looks worse for wear – there’s a bloody gash on the top of her brow and the side of her face is blooming black and blue. She walks slowly and stiffly behind Bucky, like she’s not exactly limping but not entirely comfortable either. Bucky’s tied hair has bits of debris in it and it’s hard not to notice the odd way he’s standing and cradling his left elbow. His weight is leaning him to the left, sideways. They’re both avoiding each-other’s eyes.

Steve is a little grateful for his injury that prevents him from rushing up to Bucky and checking to make sure he’s alright. But he leans for one of his crutches right as Sam makes his way to Natasha, offering a hand.

She jumps back. Startles back a few steps, eye wide with a flash of fear. Sam halts in his tracks.

“Natasha?” Sam tries, a hint of hurt in his voice. Steve winces as he gets onto his good leg and looks at Bucky for an explanation. Only, Bucky isn’t looking at him. He’s looking down at Natasha with an expression akin to exasperation. He rolls his eyes and Steve knows something is definitely, definitely wrong.

“Sorry,” Natasha mumbles and fixes her gaze to the floor. Her left arm flexes and releases.

“O-kay,” says Sam awkwardly, “is someone going to tell us what the hell is goin’ on or should I start with twenty-one questions?”

“It’s,” Natasha starts and the way her plump mouth twists is oddly familiar. “Complicated.” Steve’s seen it before. Only –

“Oh for,” Bucky snaps and finally looks at them both, but predominantly Steve. “ _I’m_ Natasha,” he says and points a finger at Natasha next to him, “that’s Barnes.”

And.

“What.” Sam and Steve say together.

And then Steve’s already zeroing in on the smaller form across from him and he can see it now. In the widened stance and stubborn tightness around the mouth that mirrors the one he gives Steve almost all the time. When he’s made uncomfortable by the Avengers team and wants any reason for Steve to get the hint to excuse them both so they can be alone. When Natasha’s green eyes flit to his, its more than obvious. It’s Bucky.

Natasha puts her hands on her hips and leans on it. The look Bucky throws her is scandalized.

“I know.”

* * *

 

It turns out the way the elves had been dodging surveillance and travelling throughout New York so quickly was through a tiny mirrored orb that has the ability to interchange one conscious mind to another. Highly effective if you needed to travel long distances. The first person to touch it would have their consciousness transferred with the touch of the immediate second. Pretty straight forward as Bucky – well, Natasha told it.

Natasha had picked it up from one of the bodies with the plan to take it back to the Tower for further analysis. But that was when Bucky came sprinting out of nowhere from the smoke, shouting to get down and before she could turn to run, the elf blew itself up. The blast throwing Bucky into her and over the hood of a Jeep.

The good news was: Bucky was able to get to her in time and dodge the worst of the explosion, huddling behind a knocked over a car.

The bad news was: they made contact.

“And now here we are,” Bucky – _Natasha_ \--  says, untying Bucky’s hair from its bun and running a metal hand through it. Steve tries not to stare. It’s not Bucky. Not exactly.

Bucky is sitting stiffly on the couch, giving space between himself and Natasha, who is taking up most of it anyway. He hasn’t taken off the gear and the blood is beginning to crust on his face. Natasha on the other hand, has unzipped the jacket entirely, exposing a sweaty throat and Kevlar under armour strapped across a strong torso that doesn’t belong to her.

“I still don’t understand why you touched it in the first place,” Bucky says finally. Natasha looks un-bothered.

“Right. I forgot I know every feature of every alien device unknown to man.” It sounds like this has been a part of an on-going argument since before they got back to the Tower.

Sam clears his throat. “So where is it now? Like, this isn’t permanent right?”

Steve looks between them both. Bucky is staring at his fists placed on his lap. They tighten.

“Stark and Bruce have it. Quarantined zone,” Natasha offers, widened her thighs. Steve doesn’t know if she’s doing it on purpose or if this is how she normally sits in her own body and he just never noticed. But he notices now. “My guess is as good as yours.”

* * *

 

Tony laughed himself stupid out of the lab so it's Bruce who's there to break the news to them.

“Records from past transfers medium out to about a week maximum. Five minimum,” Bruce says, wiping his glasses.

“Can’t they just touch the orb again?” Steve tries and Bruce shakes his head.

“They tried that already. Apparently it has rules. It might have something to do with protecting the mind from complications that can come from overuse, but that’s just a theory.”

“So you’re saying that I have to be in _this_ ,” Bucky says, emphasizing the sentiment with widening his arms. He changed out of Natasha’s tight tactical gear and is now in one of Steve’s running shirts and unfortunately, a pair of Natasha’s jeans. He tried to fight it and wear his own but there was nothing he could do to stop it from sliding off his now smaller hips. Either that, or it wouldn’t go over his hips. Even Steve’s shirt falls to his thighs. “ _This,_ ” he says again blankly, “for another six days.”

Bruce shrugs helplessly. “That’s all I’ve got.”

“At least it’s not forever,” Natasha says, lounging on a chair and sounding bored and entirely not offended. The glare Bucky shoots her is all Winter Soldier. It would make any sane person shrivel. It only makes Natasha quirk an eyebrow.

“She has a point Buck,” Steve reasons helpfully but all he gets is Bucky turning his glare to Steve and storms out of the room with the shut of the automatic door behind him. It would look menacing under any other circumstance.

“You wanna knock that dopey smile off your face any time soon Rogers?” Natasha says, a twinkle of a laugh in her voice but it’s not hers. The playful note melds with the low baritone of Bucky’s that takes Steve back. Far back. To places he hasn’t let himself think of. The smile automatically dies across his lips.

Bruce has conveniently disappeared out of his own office and it’s just the two of them. Natasha has dressed herself in Bucky’s own selected clothing. Nothing overtly special. Black shirt and worn denim jeans that Bucky had found for cheap at the Army Plus. But it’s the way she’s sitting. Like she’s putting the body on display. Steve’s eyes narrow.

“What are you doing.”

Natasha shrugs but Steve can see right through it. She knows damn well. Natasha rests the metal arm on the glass counter. “Nothing you’re not already projecting.”

Steve opens his mouth but whatever it was he wanted to say falters. He closes it sourly and Natasha beams. He leans his weight on his crutch and turns to hobble away out of the lab.

“For the record, I fucking hate this.” He says as the automatic door opens with a rush of air.

“Tell that to Barnes.”

* * *

 

Steve thought after being exposed to the reality of aliens, gods, elves and magic, that there would be absolutely nothing else that could surprise him.

And he supposes he’s right. It’s not surprise that he keeps feeling, but it's the constant routine of having to remind himself of who he’s actually talking to; when he sees Bucky walk by him at breakfast without nudging his shoulder like he does every morning, only to remember that it’s Natasha. And Natasha doesn’t talk to anyone until she’s had her espresso. 

It’s having to stop doing a double-take, coming into his bedroom to see Natasha sitting on his bed because it’s Bucky. Who’s bored and already has a movie paused for the both of them to watch. Thursday nights are their movie nights. 

Natasha is handling the change unsurprisingly well. On down time, which is basically all the time after the switch, she does the things she normally does when at the Tower, comfortable in the skin she wears. She spars with Clint, goes on runs, heads to the grocery with Bruce when he asks for her company and spends some time in the studio on her floor for hot yoga so intense no one ever joins her.

Steve tried once. The rate in which his lungs seized up made him deliriously think the serum was reversing and he was going to die, right there, sweaty on an even sweatier matt.

She’s not particularly shy or embarrassed over it. Which only makes Tony find the whole situation even more hilarious. He’s smart enough to never laugh in front of Bucky though. It’s probably for the best.

And Bucky… Steve finds he’s taking it well enough, or as well enough as he can be.

_(“I’m over psychos playing around with my brain,” he had answered finally at breakfast. He had been tight lipped about it, until he broke under Steve’s particular way of asking more with his eyes than with actual words._

_“But it’s not bad I guess,” he shrugged and scooped more Corn Pops onto his spoon and spoke through loud crunches. “I mean, it could’ve been Stark.")_

* * *

Now? Not so much.

The moment Steve’s leg healed, he let Bucky drag him to the boxing ring to let out some steam. He’s more than a little reluctant, which just ends up pissing Bucky off.

“Just when I was getting used to my own body, this has to happen,” he says tightly, wrapping tape around his knuckles in the middle of the ring. “And now we’re right back to where we started. Where _you_ pretend you don’t know how to fight and go easy on me.” Bucky rips off the tape with his teeth and crosses his arms.

Bucky just sighs after a moment; he carries Natasha’s shoulders differently. They’re not straight back with ingrained ballerina posture, but slumped and heavy.

“Natasha would be insulted you know,” Bucky adds.

“But you’re not Natasha.”

“Gee, really? I didn’t know that. You’re a real Atticus Finch.”

Steve pushes his fringe back. Of course, he knows its Bucky. It’s kind of hard to miss now that he can see the little details. In the way he speaks and the hint of a Brooklyn accent that belongs in an older time but comes out in Natasha’s raspy voice.

When he gets down to it, there’s no real difference with being around Bucky now like this or when he’s in his own body. Outside of the obvious.

It's the same. And with that, comes all the feelings Bucky has always been able to bring out of him. Feelings Steve has finally stopped trying to fight and instead has been struggling with putting into actual words. He had it all worked out. He was going to straighten his back, march up to Bucky's door and tell him everything. _He was._

Only he can’t now.

Not until things are set back into the way they’re supposed to be. 

Which is fine. Steve's patient. Or at least, he thought he was because just when he thinks he’s gotten some kind of control, Natasha parades around in Bucky’s skin in a way that’s…

Steve hasn’t figured out yet how to stop staring at his best friend’s body when his best friend is sitting next to him.

It’s just. _Hard, okay?_  

Steve avoids sounding defensive. “I still don’t think it’s a good idea. Just because you’re – in --,” Steve makes a funny gesture, “doesn’t mean you know how to fight like her. And you don’t have the serum –“

Bucky looks up at him dubiously. “I could kick your ass before the war and I can do it now.” Bucky says but there’s no real bite to it. Steve laughs, shocked by it and Bucky’s eyes flash with a daring, cocky smile that is all his own.

* * *

 

“Tapping out?” Bucky says later, both sweaty and panting a little. Steve belatedly thinks he’s lucky that the one time he’s pressed face down on a sparring matt with Bucky, it’s not Bucky’s body wrapped tight against him. It saves him the explanation of an inappropriately timed hard on.

Thankfully, it's Natasha’s strong thighs around Steve’s neck, in the way Steve had witnessed her do countless of times but never thought would be on the other end of. His arm hurts by how Bucky has it twisted back. He could pull over the grip, but that would only mean dislocating his shoulder. Steve throws him a cheated glare.

“You’re a damned liar Buck.”

Steve doesn’t have to see Bucky to know that he’s smirking proudly.

“All’s fair in war. C’mon Steve, who do you think taught her all she knows? _Christ_. ”

* * *

 

Sam’s text message later in the afternoon asks if he wants burgers or Chinese food to bring home for the three of them.

Technically, Sam and Steve would go for a run before dinner around Prospect Park, until Bucky spoke up one day and asked if he could join. Which made Sam grin and nudge Steve’s ribs enthusiastically and Steve felt like his heart would burst with pride when Bucky came back from the run in one piece.

Sam backed out after an admirable three weeks of keeping up with Steve and Bucky’s joined stamina and pace but still kept his part of the deal. He runs his own track on his own and meets them afterwards with enough food to charge an army.

 **I’ll ask him** , Steve texts back and pushes open Bucky’s bedroom door that’s ajar and stops in his tracks.

“Oh, hey,” Natasha says, bending shirtless and digging through a dresser. She unfolds a long sleeved black shirt, judging it with a scrutinized look. Steve’s throat is doing an impressive job of trying to collapse on itself. She must have been training – hard. Taking full advantage of the time window she has left to push herself in an advanced body unlike her own, because there’s sweat gleaming everywhere. The jogging pants holding on barely to the hipbones that dip.

Mercifully, she pulls the shirt down and covers the tanned inches of skin and turns to Steve. “What?”

He wasn’t going to make an issue out of it (publicly) but there’s only so much a man can take. Steve lets go of the doorknob but doesn't shut it. His jaw ticks involuntarily. “If you think you’re helping or trying to tell me something I don’t already know, you can stop now.”

Natasha tilts her head, eyebrows raised and a strand of Bucky’s brown bangs slips from the loose bun it’s kept it. “Is this to do with you avoiding me because you want to bone Barnes and you can’t for another two days?” She says flatly.

Steve feels his jaw start to drop but stops it before it can embarrass him any further. Natasha shakes her head, amazed,  and turns to plop down on the neatly made bed. “Relax. He doesn’t know. Which is remarkable because you sure make it hard not to notice.” She pats the space next to her and Steve reluctantly moves over to it.

“Good to know my team is laughing behind my back,” Steve grumbles, staring at the floor. Natasha nudges their knees together.

“Not laughing. It’s cute,” and that gets Steve to look her in the eye with disbelief. She smiles and it’s bright behind Bucky’s blue eyes. “But it will cross over to fucking annoying if you two don’t do anything about it.”

“You mean me.”

Natasha stares at him for a long moment. Longer than is probably appropriate because Steve starts to fidget with his shoulders.

“Practice on me,” she says finally.

Steve blinks, taken aback and lets the words filter and make sense before --

“What?”

“You know what,” she folds a leg under herself and shuffles in closer. “You want to tell him how you feel,” Natasha gestures to her face and Steve’s stomach pools hot with understanding. “He’s right here. So go for it.”

“This is stupid,” he reasons and is already rising to get the hell out of the room and find Bucky, but Natasha grabs him with the metal arm and shoves him back down.

“Steve.”

Steve knows better than to engage in a staring contest with her. It’s a losing battle, and she’s just as stubborn. He lasts a pitiful minute before sighing out a _‘fine’_ and looking out the window to inhale as much air into his lungs before looking back at her.

It’s nothing new. He can’t exactly control it – the way his heart beat hitches into overdrive at the idea. No amount of preparation could be enough, especially for what he’s facing right this second. It’s Bucky’s face looking him straight in the eye now. Which should choke Steve up. Make him go into a full bodied flush over the weight of the words he’s kept inside since 38’. Words tied to feelings he hasn’t ever let go of. _(“I think I’ve loved you all my life.”)_

They’re all there. Linking into coherent words gathering at the back of his tongue and it’s easier somehow to voice it. It’s Bucky’s face, but it’s not him who’s listening. They find themselves, remarkably. Easier than he ever thought could be possible.

“I’m in love with you,” Steve says.

The world doesn’t come to an end as he believed it would. Steve lets the truth of it float between them and exhales heavy. A weight like nothing he’s ever felt before lifting off his chest and Natasha preens proudly. Steve grins back, high with relief.

“Thanks,” he says, confident and a little light headed. Natasha shrugs and gets to her feet, pulling the hair band out from sweaty locks.

“Don't thank me just yet,” she heads to leave, “oh, and tell Sam to bring me back whatever he’s having.”

* * *

 

Bucky doesn’t respond to any of Steve’s texts. In fact, he’s nowhere to be found until nearly twenty minutes past their scheduled time when he enters his room.

Steve definitely did not camp out there, waiting for him like a worried mother.

“Buck?” Steve says, swinging his legs off of the couch. Bucky is dressed in Natasha’s black jeans and a zipped up brown leather jacket. He doesn’t make eye contact and something in Steve’s gut twists in trepidation. Like he’s about to take a step in a field littered with mines.

“Did you want to stay in today instead?” Steve offers, getting to his feet but doesn’t make it very far because Bucky throws him a hard look before walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him.

* * *

 

“What the fuck did you do?” Sam says the second Steve meets him at their local burger shop. It’s later than they planned, the sun painting the sky a bloody rose colour. Sam has already ordered Steve’s usual and the fries are still warm.

At this rate, Steve thinks the Avengers can break some sort of record for gossip traction. He didn’t even say anything. _It’s been twenty minutes._

“I didn’t do anything,” Steve says and the look Sam gives him says he doesn’t buy that for a second. “I didn’t. The last time I saw him was this morning and we were fine.”

“That’s not what Nat tells me. Or Barton,” Sam sips the foam off his beer.

" _Barton?_ "

Sam ignores him. “Apparently Barnes clocked Stark for checking Natasha out while she did yoga with Banner.”

Steve barely holds down a laugh. “Good.”

“Yeah, all the power to him.”

“But?”

“ _But,_ he’s more broody than usual. I asked him if he wanted to meet us down here and I’m telling you dude, just the mention of your name made his face do a thing I never thought I’d see,” Sam says with enough sympathy as if to soften the blow to Steve and prevent him from feeling lost; dizzy with confusion and hurt.

Steve is dizzy with confusion and hurt. He sets his burger down without a bite.

“Not his typical pissed face,” Sam clarifies, “but whatever you don’t think you did must have really hurt him.”

Steve says nothing and stares at his plate of food, raking his brain over the past five hours –

“You didn’t tell him yet right?” Sam says tentatively. Steve shakes his head and sinks in his chair, scratching at the bit of stubble on the angle of his jaw. Sam pushes Steve’s beer closer to him across the table and he takes it.

“Maybe he’s mad that I ate his sweet and sour pork.”

Sam blinks, burger half raised to his mouth.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

* * *

 

Steve’s not avoiding Bucky.

There’s a difference between avoiding someone and giving them space because you don’t want to make things worse than they already are. Especially when you don't even know how things got worse in the first place. So that's what Steve is doing now on the late afternoon the Natasha and Bucky should be transferring back somewhere down in Bruce’s lab.

It took a lot of willpower to not go down there with Bucky to make sure everything ran smoothly. He reasoned his absence with making dinner for them both so Bucky would have something waiting for him when he returned. _If he returns,_ Steve thinks to himself. The chili is nearly done and Steve covers the pot and checks on the garlic bread that’s toasting in the oven when he hears the elevator open.

“Steve?” Bucky’s voice comes from down the corridor and when Steve looks up, he’s standing there, dressed in sweat pants and a grey shirt that’s a size too small. He can recognize that it's Bucky even without prior reminder. It’s in the way he stands and walks over to him. The blue in his eyes are even brighter like they should be.

“Everything okay Buck?” Steve asks and Bucky shrugs with his metal shoulder and then places his flesh hand on the bicep.

“My brains not scrambled eggs so,” he says it like it’s a joke and laughs a little bitterly, “never thought I’d miss this thing.” He gestures to his left arm and then sits on one of the high stools, picking up an apple from the fruit basket.

“It’s a part of you, it makes sense,” Steve says and when Bucky doesn’t look back at him he shuts off the gas stove and looks for plates for the two of them.

He’s not used to this. To walking on egg shells around Bucky and scrambling to fill up the silences; at least not after he broke through the programming HYDRA subjected him to. Everything had been uphill. Albeit a slow and gradual process uphill, that not only reminded Steve to be delicate with Bucky’s recovery, but to remember that Bucky is a different person these days. He had changed and it made sense. Steve isn’t exactly the same person he was before either. So if he’s doing a poor job in hiding how desperate he is to fix whatever he mucked up, well.

“Thought we could celebrate the end of this fiasco now that you’re back in your own body,” Steve says, scooping large portions into their plates and giving Bucky a nudge more. Immediately, he knows he said the wrong thing when placing it on the table between them.

Bucky makes a face. His edges of his mouth twist down, tight and sour. But his eyes give him away. Sad and a little betrayed.

Steve sits down heavily next to him. Done with pretending. Like he doesn't notice. “Okay Buck, this is crazy. What’s wrong? What did I do?” _I’ll fix it. I’ll do better for you._

The way Bucky stares at him is unnerving. He doesn’t look like he’s breathing. Steve’s about to reach out for his right wrist and throw all his pride into the wind when Bucky finally speaks. Voice flat and monotone.

“Natasha should still be in the Tower. You don’t need to keep me company you know.”

Steve thinks he goes momentarily deaf for how everything around him sounds as though he’s underwater. Thankfully, it only lasts a few seconds because Bucky’s face is melting from misty eyed resentment to actual aggravation the more Steve says nothing. Steve’s mind races through: _What the hell – what does Natasha have to – why would I want to be with her over – are you – wait –wait-_ and screeches to a halt at: _oh fuck._

“Oh god,” Steve chokes out, his neck heating up and it creeps up higher. Bucky squints.

“Bucky,” Steve says and pushes his bowl away to try and get to his hands but Bucky pulls them onto his lap and away from him. “That’s not – that’s not – “

“It’s not, it’s not,” Bucky mocks and pushes his chair back, “it’s not what Steve. You can say it.”

It’s barely a debate. Weighing the odds of exposing himself after years of doing all within his power to keep it a secret, against having Bucky believe he’s in love with Natasha all because he's insecure and so beyond stupidly in love with his best friend. His best friend who is sitting next to him and looking at him expectedly. He overheard it; must have walked in and walked right out.

Either upset that Steve didn't tell him or --

_Or._

“That was practice,” Steve says in a rush and presses his lips together to stop the flood of an explanation.

Bucky blinks, and some tension sheds off from his shoulders. He studies Steve with mild suspicion. “Practice.”

Steve swallows and folds his hands together to stop them from shaking. This is ridiculous.

“Yeah. Practice.”

When he adds nothing to that, Bucky’s mouth twitches a little and it does wonders in relaxing Steve to see it. “For?” He tilts his head, a strand of hair getting in his eye. 

“I, uh,” it takes all of Steve’s leftover courage to keep eye contact with Bucky, whose large blue eyes are beginning to swell with something else entirely. Whatever it is, Steve wants to see more of it. “For you.”

Bucky’s face doesn’t change for a beat. But when it does, it’s like the sun peaking its head from behind grey and stormy clouds. It’s more powerful than any verbal answer could ever hope to be.

“Bucky.”

Bucky’s full on grinning now; perfectly white and straight teeth shining at him and it makes Steve’s heart try its damned best to escape from beneath his ribcage. His cheeks hurt. 

“ _Bucky_ ,” he says again. “Stop.”

“You are,” Bucky manages to breathe out, beaming but doesn't finish the thought. Instead, reaches over and pulls Steve in from across the table and presses his lips hard against Steve’s partially opened ones. Bucky tastes sweet and Steve’s positive his brain has gone and shut down on him but he’s also positive that he doesn’t give a damn about it because Bucky is kissing him. It’s Bucky’s lips and Bucky’s warmth and his hands on him. No one else's.

“Okay,” Steve mumbles against Bucky’s lips. Bucky laughs airily, closing in for another kiss against Steve’s jaw and then down his neck and Steve turns into it. “Okay, don’t stop. _Don’t stop_.” 

“You’ll have to make me punk,” Bucky says and pulls back a little to look him in the eye. 

Steve has no plan to.

**Author's Note:**

> The only reason why Bucky is grinning like a love drunk teenager and walking with an extra skip in his step is because it's two in the morning and the kitchen is supposed to be unoccupied. The lights are even off. But of course -- 
> 
> "Jesus, Natasha," Bucky says, thrown but catching some composure before beelining for the fridge. He's silently judging himself for not noticing she was there earlier, sitting alone with a carton of dark chocolate ice cream. 
> 
> "Oh to be beautiful again," Natasha says wistfully and Bucky rolls his eyes, even though his back to her and she can't see it. He grabs the six pack. 
> 
> "I know. I was beginning to forget what it felt like," he replies blandly and when Natasha offers no witty comeback, he turns to her. Uneasy. Bucky finds he has every reason to be by the smug grin on her face. 
> 
> "You're welcome," she chimes, overly cheerful that it's starting to creep him out. But he'll be damned if he lets her see an inch of vulnerability. Or god forbid, _proof._
> 
> "I don't know what you're talking about." He tries not to think about Steve who is currently waiting for him. Naked in Bucky's bed and finishing up a highly inappropriate sketch he started of Bucky earlier on.
> 
> "Mhm," Natasha hums and rests her chin on her palm. She taps her two fingers to a spot along her jaw and it's not even a hint. The exact spot matching to the fading hickey's on his own. 
> 
> " _Bye Natasha,_ " Bucky says and heads out the way he came, beers cradled under his arm. Natasha's laugh chasing him out.
> 
> If he's thankful, she's never gonna hear it from him. Maybe Steve. _Maybe._


End file.
